The Sound Of
by TessaSpencer
Summary: CJ and Toby have always had a complicated relationship, and fourth season did nothing to help that along.


1 - Click

The heavy pounding on her door made her want to throw something—anything—and make whoever it was go away.

It had felt like the longest week of her life, and it wasn't showing any signs of stopping. The first daughter was kidnapped and the President handed over power to a Republican. Andy had her babies, and Toby was a father. Josh and Donna were playing cat and mouse, only this time they were batting each other around more than anything else. Sam was still in California, licking his wounds, and for once when they all needed him, he was nowhere to be found. The California 47th had stolen him away.

What kind of day this has been, CJ thought, as she took another swig from the scotch bottle in front of her. She was drinking it because it reminded her of him, and if she couldn't have him in her life, she'd at least have his drink of choice in her hands.

"Open the damn door," the voice bellowed, shaking her from her state of thought. It was familiar, she knew, and half a bottle of scotch ago, it would have been easily recognizable.

"CJ, if you don't open this door...I'll...I'll...use my key and just come in," he called in.

"Then do it Toby," she called back, suddenly realizing it was Toby. She laughed to herself—she yelled at him before she realized consciously who it was. He even invaded her subconscious, she decided.

"Fine." He was resigned to enter the apartment and have a conversation with her, regardless of what she wanted.

When he opened the door, he was surprised by the darkness which seemed to have engulfed her. She was no where to be seen, and there was no evidence of any one else.

"Can I turn a light on?"

"Only if you want me to break it—my eyes hurt too much. I think I've seen too much this week already," she blathered, hopelessly. She was blissfully unaware of most of what she was saying.

Instead of turning a light on, he groped his way through the darkness and to the living room, taking a seat on what he had always thought of as his chair.

"It smells like scotch in here," he deduced quickly.

"A point for the new father—yay!" She clapped her hands wildly after she took another swig.

"You don't drink scotch," Toby said flatly.

"Well now I do."

"Why did you suddenly start?"

"Because I could—who would know the difference anyway?" She chortled as she rested even lower on the couch. Her legs had come to a straightened state across the lower end of the sofa while she rested her head against the throw pillows she had bought to make the place seem more...lived in.

"I noticed." He hated seeing her on self-destruct mode, when he knew that tomorrow she'd go to work perfectly 'fine' and fighting again.

"Small miracles." She wondered how far away from finished she was, and if she could feel any better than the numb she was experiencing.

"You're drunk."

"You're perceptive! Another point for the new father!" Lifting another pillow from beside her, she gently flung it in the direction of his voice. When she heard a thudding noise, she felt suddenly very validated.

"You're abusive when you're drunk," he concluded.

"Remember back at debate camp when we formed Team Toby?"

"How could I forget?"

"I hated Team Toby." CJ gulped another sip of the amber liquid, feeling it burn as it traveled through her, leaving what she imagined to be a trail of red embers.

"So did I," he confessed. "But you still participated."

"Because I had to—for you. I'm your friend, and they expected me to be supportive."

He ignored the questions that were forming in his head and decided to let the subject drop. "Did you know babies come with hats?"

"What the hell?"

"Did you know that babies, when they are born, come with hats? They put the little bundle in your arms, and it's wearing a hat. Babies come with hats."

"Have you been drinking?"

"No."

"Good then," CJ said as she stood, and stumbled towards the bathroom. He could hear the lock click after the door closed, and he could hear water start to run.

She's taking a bath? What the hell is going on with her?

"You're still here," she said in shock, as she settled on the sofa once more. This time, however, she was wrapped in a towel, her hair pulled back in a towel mountain atop her head.

"Yeah, did you expect me to leave? You've not told me what's got you all freaked out."

"The black Vera Wang. I looked amazing in that dress..."

"Is that the one from...? Ya know?"

"Yeah. I looked so beautiful in it. You should have seen Simon's face when I put it on. He was watching me...Well, not watching watching, but...you know, watching. So was my stalker."

"So that's what's upsetting you?"

"It's been a year, Tobias, and I'm still walking around in this shell, wondering if I'll ever be able to tell another man that I have feelings for him."

"Why wouldn't you be able to?" He was genuinely confused. Of all the things that he imagined could be plaguing her, Simon wasn't on his list.

"Because he died, you idiot. I told him I liked him, I kissed him and he died. He was murdered." She could feel her heart beating faster at the thought of that night on Broadway, how it felt to be free of her stalker, and then how it felt to be crying in Time Square, totally alone and feeling guilty for the death of her almost lover.

She would have slept with him.

"That doesn't mean that it will happen again! CJ, you're way too rational to feel this insecure!" Toby couldn't believe that his friend of twenty years was really acting like this—he had never seen her so fragile.

"It doesn't mean it won't, now does it?" She practically spat her words at him, and then felt very naked in her disclosure of how she felt. CJ was also starting to sober up, making her more conscious of her state of undress. "I'm going to get dressed now, and if you're still here when I come out, I'd like a glass of something. Cognac maybe."

"You confuse me, Claudia Jean," Toby whispered after her, getting up to get two glasses down from the make shift bar she had built in her wall unit.

"What are we drinking?"

"I found some tequila. And I decided against it. You shouldn't mix alcohol—you'll feel like death tomorrow. I got you a glass of water."

"I feel like death tonight."

She settled onto the sofa, her knees curled into her body, and her arms protectively wrapped around her legs.

"What's going on? How did you go from 'okay' at work today to 'death' tonight?" Toby had turned on a light, hoping that it would escape her, but she noticed it almost instantly, and as CJ leaned forward to turn off the lamp, he caught a glimpse of her tear streaked face.

CLICK.

"I never used to hate that noise. That clicking noise that the lamp makes when you turn it off. Now it reminds me of cameras. I've had enough of them for twenty lifetimes." CJ sighed as she thought about all of the pictures from the last week. Her at the podium, describing Zoey's clothing, and begging the reporters not to speculate. Pulling Mrs. Bartlet from the door of the pressroom. Holding Toby's babies at the hospital, forcing a smile for the camera when secretly all she wanted to do was cry and tell Toby that she wished they were hers.

The last photo was the one that tore her apart. It reminded her that she had screwed up another thing in her life—she didn't ever find someone to love. Wait, not true, she found people to love, and she pushed them away until they were unavailable to her anymore.

It started in high school, just because as a gawky teenager, what's better to do than like every guy, but go out with none? In University, she pushed the guys she liked away, wanting to wait until she was finished her education. After university they had all moved on, and found others to love. She pushed Toby away until she established a career, and he met Andy. She pushed half a dozen men away after him, and then she met Danny...a walking conflict of interest, and undeniably the one time she thought about making the sacrifice it would take to keep a man in her life. But then he left, without a trace, for two years, only to resurface years later as if nothing had happened—it had though, in abundance, things had changed, and nothing was left untouched. Not even CJ.

Simon. She opened her heart, and then pushed him away almost as quickly. When CJ realized what she was doing, she tried to 'make a move' and then there was the time on Broadway, in front of the theatre. And then he died.

"I think we should confiscate all of your alcohol and we should make you speak to Stanley."

"I don't need a therapist!" CJ yelled, hurling her glass. She was fairly certain that she wouldn't hit him, as much as it would freak him out. She had wanted to add 'I need you,' but she didn't. There were too many words to be said, and none of them seemed very likely to come easily.

"You need something," Toby argued, wishing he could have gotten there a few hours earlier.

But he needed to walk around, and try and relieve himself of some of the drama in his life. Toby needed to clear his head and remember that all of the strangeness that was happening really was reality. He was a father, of twins, and no matter what Andy said, Huck and Molly needed him.

Was he sad? Undeniably, but probably not for the reasons Andy suspected.

"I need you to leave—now. And I need you never to mention this again." CJ wished she could make a different request of him. She wished she could ask him to stay and hold her, and remind her that although he left her, he's still there for her. But to ask him to do that would be like asking him to give up his fight for Andy, and that was a step too great to take so soon. It would also require a greater level of confidence and a sober, coherent mind—neither of which CJ had.

"What if I don't want to leave?"

"Men always want to leave me," she said curtly.

"I've never wanted to leave you," he whispered. "I wish you wouldn't generalize."

"Maybe you just weren't aware of it, but you did. That's the way my life works: men come in, I push them away, and they leave me. Don't worry, I don't blame you." She could feel tears streaking her face again, and she wondered if he would be long to leave—she couldn't handle much more conversation.

"Fuck you, CJ! I've never wanted anything more than I want to be with you, but you won't let me, and I still seem to stick around. Maybe you're right, maybe I should leave!" Full of rage and pain, Toby practically leapt from his seat, and raced towards the door, slamming it shut behind him.

"I knew you'd leave too," CJ said, as she began to weep, her body heaving from the sobs.

2 - Swooshing

"CJ, how are the...Mr. and Mrs. Bartlet doing?" Danny seemed as disshelved as the rest of the reporters, who were all frantically trying to figure out how to address the situation.

CJ cringed at the use of Mr. and Mrs. He was the President and she was Doctor Bartlet, and that was the only way they should have been addressed. To address him as anything else...made her wonder if he'd ever be back in his rightful position again.

"They are both doing as well as can be expected. They're being briefed about all developments as quickly as they're discovered, and Ron Butterfield is keeping in close contact with them." She looked around the pressroom, hands flailing and the sounds of clicking all about. "Katie?"

"There are reports that traces of GHB have been found in blood samples submitted to the lab for analysis, and I was wondering if you could tell us of what importance that information is?"

'How did she get that information? That's classified...I didn't say that.' "I don't know who started that story, but I can't comment on it one way or another—you all know the ropes here folks: I cannot discuss any aspects of the investigation with you, whether it is dispelling a misconception you folks have, or leaking information." She looked around, acutely aware of all the flashes going off. Did she look as bad as she thought she might? To hell with that—did she look as confused and distracted as she knew she was? "Okay, that's it folks. I have to go back to work for a while, and you're on your own. Try not to start any rumours—they're only making the jobs of the FBI and Secret Service harder."

As she left the room, flashbulbs were going off at insane rates, never stopping and never changing targets.

"We need to get you up there again in about an hour—I guess they found some letter or something," Carol passed a dossier to her, and then continued to walk with her. "Toby requested a visit with you and Josh needs to go over that last briefing. I guess someone leaked the information about the drug tests, but I'm not sure what he wants to do with it."

"Thanks," CJ said, trying to think of a place in which she could hide for a few minutes. "I've, uh, got a few things to do right now, but I'll be back in the office in about ten, okay?"

"Where can I reach you if I need to?"

"You know what Carol, for ten minutes, you can hold all messages, okay?" CJ felt the fury building in the pit of her stomach. All she was asking for was ten minutes of peace, and in trade, she was being made to feel guilty for wanting that time.

Walking off in bounding strides, CJ headed towards the communications bullpen and towards Sam's office. Wait, she realized...That's Will's office now.

Will was a nice guy, she thought, but he was certainly no Sam. God, she missed her Spanky. How many other senior staffers let her call them 'Mr. Schmutzy Pants'?

Knock knock.

"Come in!"

"Hey Will," she entered quickly, pulling the door closed behind her.

"CJ," he smiled, sweetly, but she could see the stress on his face, in the creases of his forehead, and in his eyes.

"Falling asleep, were we?"

"No, I was just..."

"Falling asleep," she joked.

"Yeah, you'd think my body would be accustomed to the sleep depravation, but it's just not adapting."

"Never does," CJ conceded.

"So, what can I do for you?"

"Hide me?"

Will looked at her quizzically before he realized that the only thing he could think of was to ask her to take him with her. He thought better of it. "From whom?"

"The world."

"Ah, see that would insinuate that you need to be hidden from me as well and as much as I know that's not what you meant..."

"You too." Her voice was shaky. "I want to go somewhere where I can take a ten minute break without feeling like I've let the country down. I want to lie on a beach, with no cares in the world, except whether or not my tan looks as good as it should. I want to sip margaritas in deck chairs and daydream about the life of a seashell."

"That was really beautiful—until the seashell thing, and now I'm just worried," Will said with a slight tone of teasing in his voice.

"Ha ha."

"I used to soak up the sun on the shores of Nantucket. It was the thing to do when your father was...my father. It made him feel 'American' again, as if being who he was made him less patriotic," Will snickered at the memory. "Anyway, I remember the sound of the waves crashing against the shore, swooshing over the sand and over the smooth stones that I had hunted when I was younger. It was amazing to hear the voice of every wave cracking..."

"That," CJ whispered, "that's what I feel I've earned. I've seen this administration through every catastrophe and a few tragedies more than any one person should ever be witness to...I've stood up and allowed people to make me seem stupid, I've allowed friends to use me as a sacrificial lamb, and I've allowed the men I love to slowly destroy me. I know I've earned this."

"I was seven, CJ. I didn't even have to balance my allowance money much further than whether or not I should invest it in bubble gum or chewy candies."

"I want swooshing."

"We all want swooshing," he said, looking back to the paper on his desk and fondly remembering all the sounds he absorbed, laying on his back, looking up at a crystal blue sky.

"Yeah," she agreed, before leaving his office and pulling the door closed behind her, bracing herself to going back to a swooshless existence.

3 – Tick

The ticking of the clock on her wall reminded her that time was passing—things were moving too quickly again, and there didn't seem to be a way to stop them.

She got the call around 11:00, and although expected, it still caught her off guard. Her father was dead—he died in his sleep late in the afternoon. It was peaceful, she was assured, but all the same she felt like she had failed him by not anticipating it and being there.

CJ had called Josh first. She thought about all the time that had passed between then and the time when she would have called Toby, and asked him to help her.

Tick...

The clock never stopped moving forward. There was no way to go back, and change things.

If anyone knew that, CJ did.

Tick...

Her biological clock was moving forward, reminding her that she wanted children. What seemed like a hundred years ago, she dreamed of holding a baby to her chest, and choosing a name for her own little angel.

She had thought about what it felt like when she reached 35 and still hadn't had any, and how she told herself she still had time.

CJ thought about all the times she wanted to pursue an adoption, but she never felt like she had enough time to dedicate to a family, or to child—especially without a father to raise it with.

Tick...

43 fast approached her and she learned that it was probably too late to think about children. Her body was still able—for how long, she wasn't sure—but there was no man on the horizon, and no chances of finding one soon.

She had resigned herself to not having children. She had even resigned herself to never getting married. But it wasn't an easy decision to make.

Tick...

She had always had 'feelings' for Toby, and although she tried to convince herself that they were only superficial, she knew that she really did care for him.

Every time something happened, CJ wished she could be by his side, and wished that she could make his life easier. She never really thought that she'd have the opportunity, but oh how she longed for it.

Tick...

There were nights when she thought about Toby, and the child she wanted but never had, and there were nights when she just listened to the ticking, and realized that no matter what she did in her life she could never stop the clock from moving forward and she could never change the choices she made in the past.

"It's almost time for your flight," she told herself, before picking up the pieces of herself that she had allowed to roam free for one rare occasion. "Claudia Jean, this is your life."

Turning off the light and tossing her bag over her shoulder, she listened for another minute to the hollow tick of the clock, and wondered how she ever allowed herself to think she could cheat time.

It moved effortlessly, she realized, and without hindrance. It was the only true inevitable, invincible thing, and it pissed her off to know that she couldn't defy it.

Tick...

4 – Denial

As she stepped off the plane, she felt calmer than she had in days. Her father was buried, and all of the business she had in Dayton was 'wrapped up'. CJ was wondering if she'd ever go back.

The time she spent in Dayton flew by in a blur—there was an endless parade of people, wishing her their best, and telling her how it was for the better. "It is better this way—there's no more pain or confusion. He's with your mother," they had said.

"Better," CJ had snickered, finding it mildly amusing that she once found that to be a word of comfort. She herself had used it to console families, and now it was her turn. It seemed like cruel turnabout.

When she hailed the Taxi cab, she hadn't noticed the tall man standing staring at her from the doorway, watching her. He had expected her to have taken more clothes (she always packed twice as much as she needed) but she only dragged one small suitcase and a carry on bag.

"CJ!"

She didn't seem to bat an eyelash, instead continuing to wave her hand for the cab.

"CJ," he said once more, taking her arm in his hand, and spinning her to see him.

"Toby?"

"How are you?" he asked, as he pulled her into a tight embrace.

"I'm alright," she lied, thinking about all the things she wanted in her life, and all of the things she had sacrificed already. She knew that if she read too much into the gesture, she'd be sacrificing another thing—one which she wasn't ready to give away so easily.

"You're lying." As he inched away from her, she closed her eyes for a moment, and then waited for him, knowing he had more to say. "I wish you had told me sooner. I would have come with you."

"Thanks. But I was alright." She wasn't alright, and she knew it. She officially had almost no family left, save for her siblings but it wasn't the same.

"No, you weren't. And you're not now." He had known her for most of their lives—there was no way she could lie to him. And the fact that she wasn't alright before her father died, compounded with the realization that she'd never see him again made him even more certain that she was anything but okay.

It could have been the stress of the situation, or the way that Toby was pushing her to admit something she didn't want to admit. CJ knew that she wasn't taking the situation as well as she could be, but she also knew that she wasn't ready for him to tell her that.

"Well thank you Doctor Ruth! Seriously! Toby, do I really need you standing over me to tell me what's wrong with me now? No. I have enough on my mind without hating you too!" CJ propelled her shoulder bag into the arms of the taxi driver and then thrust forward the suitcase she had been toting behind her.

"CJ, you don't have to hate me for caring about you."

"You know what? I have to hate you for not caring about me the way I've always wanted you to." CJ blinked back tears.

"What?"

"We've been friends for more than twenty years and for at least ten of those I've..."

"You can't just stop there...you can't just stop talking now."

A laugh escaped her before she could tell him that she can do whatever she wants.

"Look, if you have anything else to say, maybe you should..." He was in a state of shock. He had thought about her like that before, often if he was honest with himself. But he wasn't sure how to say what he wanted to.

"No, it's better this way. It is better that I get in my cab, and you leave me alone. And please, don't call me tonight. I'll see you at work tomorrow." Closing the door behind her, she watched as the car pulled away, and wished she could keep her mouth shut.

"Where ya going lady?"

Barely managing her address without crying, she looked back to see him still standing on the curb, shell shocked.

"It's better this way," she mumbled, turning back to watch the road ahead.

5 – Silence

"CJ, answer the damn phone. I'm calling back every five minutes until you pick up." There was a click and then the sound of nothing—something oddly consoling for CJ. At least that sounded familiar.

Silence resounded through out the apartment, as she thought about what she almost said to her best friend at the airport. She almost told him that she loved him, and she almost let herself lose that little piece of herself—what seemed like the last piece she had left.

CJ had been holding on to that piece of herself that allowed her to still love Toby, after his marriage, after his divorce, after the times he left her to explore new campaign routes, and after his children were born. None of that seemed to change the part of her that yearned for the kisses they once shared, before they told each other that they were better as friends than lovers, and then they broke apart into silence.

Silence was becoming something of normality for her, and the loneliness she had once felt when the world was that quiet had long since banished, leaving her with a quiet resolve to make the best of things she had left. Even though the things she had left often reminded her of what she didn't have, and probably never would.

She didn't have children, she didn't have a husband, and she didn't even have a lover.

The last time she had been able to enjoy the company of a man was when Marco Arlen appeared at her damned high school reunion and that was hardly a fulfilling experience. Instead she felt naked and embarrassed, wondering if what she had done was merely because he was there, or if it was a visitation to her reckless youth. Either way, even while she was enjoying the sensation of his hands on her body, she knew that she'd regret it the minute it stopped.

When they were having sex, she had told him not to stop, and he might have thought that his caress had been driving her over the edge, but what CJ had really meant was not to allow the contact to ever end. She couldn't stand the hollow feeling she knew she'd be left with when it was over.

It ended, of course, as her logical mind had already surmised when he removed his softening member from her body. It had to end, because it wasn't the real thing—it was physical contact for the sake of feeling more alive than she had before, but afterwards, she wondered if the silence stirring in her chest was actually a minute speck of death, planting it self.

The phone ringing broke the silence, and after several chimes, the machine picked up.

"I'm not here, you know what to do." CJ's message was short and to the point—sometimes she wondered if it was too blunt, and too much like she was feeling most of her life.

"It's me, CJ." Toby sounded more frustrated than he had last time. "You have to pick up the damn phone...Seriously, I'm only calling because I don't want to interfere in your space, so I won't use the key, but..."

"If you don't want to interfere..." CJ couldn't resist picking up the phone at that. "You could hang up and stop fucking calling."

"I can't." He said it like it was a statement of fact which was undeniably true.

"Why not?"

"Because you were going to tell me you loved me," Toby was nothing short of curt.

"I was going to tell you to fuck off," CJ lied, knowing he wouldn't believe her.

"It's not better this way," he argued. "Open the door."

"What?"

"Open the door, let me in, and let's talk." He hung up the phone, once again unleashing silence on CJ's apartment, this time making her acutely aware of it.

Sitting on the couch, CJ could feel the hollowness that she had felt many times before, and she began to wonder if by opening the door she'd seal her fate or open Pandora's box.

6 – Words

"Open the damn door," Toby said, as he pounded on the door. It had been a matter of no more than two minutes since he hung up the phone but he had expected her to open it by now. He had wanted her to greet him, if not with open arms, at least with a grumble and a complaint.

She debated the merit of opening the door. It would end the humiliation sooner rather than later, but then again, there was a certain appeal to pissing him off. Of course, then there was the image of Toby standing outside of the door, pounding on it which provided some degree of humour to the situation.

"Open the door!"

"God, you've always been impossible." Flinging open the door, she couldn't help but chuckle at the image of the dishelved Toby standing before her.

"Don't laugh—your neighbor across the hall is going to call the police on me, and then you'll have to explain to the President why I'm writing his speeches from prison."

"It'd be a minimum security prison, I think, and you'd be an attractive wife for some inmate."

Pushing past her, Toby entered the apartment and inwardly smiled that she was joking around with him—even if it was at his expense.

"Sure, come on in," CJ said, closing the door behind him.

"Hey, you can't deny me access after leaving me standing on the curb at the airport. Do you know that taxi drivers laugh at you if you tell them to follow a car?" Toby flopped haphazardly into the chair.

The image from an old movie of car chases and good guy/bad guy adventures sprang to mind, and superimposing Toby's face on the pursuer only made her laugh harder. "You do know where I live, Tobias, and I can't imagine that you really need to tell them to follow me."

"I didn't know where you were going." His eyes seemed to trace over the carpet. "You took off, and as far as I was concerned, you could have gone anywhere."

"You know me better than that."

"I thought I did," Toby admitted. "Then I realized that maybe I was wrong."

"Look, don't take it as an ego boost. It was just...they're just words. Words don't mean anything really, do they?"

"They do," he began, "if they're indicative of emotions. Do you have feelings for me?"

"They were words. Words are just syllables strung together and uttered. Don't make them out to be the Holy Grail or anything."

"CJ!"

"No, you listen to me Toby..."

"No, I've been listening Claudia Jean, and I think it's time you listened to me. Words are my expertise, and you can't tell me that I didn't understand what you were saying." When she didn't say anything, he continued. "You were going to use a word that means a lot—you were milliseconds away from telling me something very important, and you didn't. You stopped yourself, and you ran away."

"I didn't run away."

"You drove away, after feeding me some lame line about it being better this way. Don't kid yourself. We've been friends for most of our adult lives, and I can't believe you feel that you can push me away like this."

"I didn't push you away. I walked away. I've lost, okay, I understand that. You and Andy just had two beautiful babies, and you're a father. You two are going to get back together..."

"No we're not! CJ, what makes you think you know everything about me? You've not spoken to me about anything serious in months. You've not spoken to me about anything other than work since the debate camp. Do you know how much it hurts to know that your best friend would rather ignore you than talk to you?"

"Yeah, do you know how much it hurts to make a move on your best friend, and then be told he's 'not ready' for a real relationship—a serious one, at least? And then, to watch that same friend march down an isle less than a year later?" There were tears streaming down her face, as she finally let what had been bothering her spill forward.

"We were young, CJ, and we were just going to hurt each other."

"So instead, you decided to hurt me, and then move on."

"I decided I needed you too much to let you disappear out of my life, even if it meant hurting you a little." Toby sat forward in his chair and waited while CJ paced.

"What about hurting me a lot? Do you think it was worth it?"

"Yes."

"Please leave, now."

"No. Let me finish!" Toby stood to meet her glare, and held her shoulders firmly. "It's my turn to speak."

"They're just words, Toby."

"No, they're not. I've loved you forever CJ, and it's been all kinds of love. Friendship, and even romantic love—I've dreamed about you, I've wanted to spend time with you and hold you. I wanted to be with you forever, but I didn't want to lose you like I've lost everyone else. I have destroyed every relationship I've ever had, and I didn't want to destroy ours."

"So you decided to destroy it by making me resent you?"

"No, I decided to preserve our friendship at the expense of my feelings. I never thought you felt half as deeply for me as I do for you." His body inched nearer to hers as the walls around her began to break down.

"What about Andy? And Huck and Molly?"

"She won't marry me—she knows that we would never work out. And Huck and Molly will always be my children. I love them so much, and I'm so lucky to have them. I don't deserve two perfect little angels. I don't deserve you either, and I know there's no reason for me to get that lucky."

"So I'm the back up plan?" CJ wanted to hear the words that could reassure her that things would work out.

"No, you're the first choice that I thought I couldn't have. She was the back up plan, and now I understand how much of a mistake that was. Really."

"Are those just words?"

"No."

"I love you, Toby, and it's killing me to think of what I've given up because I was too stubborn to fight you twenty-something years ago."

"I love you CJ, and who said you gave up anything?"

"Just look at me, right now, and tell me I haven't."

"I don't think you have. You've got love, a career and you've got friends who think the world of you."

"And?"

"You've got me."

Moving into his embrace, CJ smiled meekly.

"And you've got all the words that mean anything."


End file.
